Puttin' on the Ritz
by apiratesmile
Summary: Maddie's world is turned upside down when her mother is killed in a car accident.  Maddie is placed in the custody of her father, a man she has never met. As she learns to live with him she discovers her mother's death might not have been all it appeared.
1. Chapter 1

When I was little I used to watch the men flocking around my mother and wonder if any of them were my father. I sure as hell hoped not. It seemed unlikely that any of them were. Once I tried to ask mother about him. She wrinkled her perfect nose for a moment as if recalling something she had hoped to forget. A pained smile formed on her scarlet lips as she bent down to kiss my forehead.

"Now, Maddie, why would you worry your darling little head about such a trivial topic?"

I didn't think questions of my father should be considered _trivial_ but I was so happy to be spending the little time I had with my mother that I did not bother to push the subject. The rest of the day she showered me with clothes and toys and ice cream. Being eight, I did not object.

Now that I'm fifteen I wish I had.

My grandmother did not allow me to attend my mother's funeral today. She says it is unbecoming to cry in public but I don't think I will cry. I'm too tired to cry. I sit and watch on the television as my own mother is laid to rest; surrounded by a thousand strangers come to pay their respects. I listen as a news reporter described the death of my mother one more time. I watch as she is lowered into the ground with the secret of my father buried with her.

_Thousands have come to mourn the tragic passing of music icon Vira Sole. The singer passed away one week prior in a car accident. The driver of the vehicle, Miller Haunt, is charged with driving while intoxicated and possible manslaughter. Also in the vehicle was Vira's fifteen year-old daughter, Madison Solomon. At this time we would like to take a moment of silence for the loss of one of the most talented singers to have graced the music industry._

_After the commercial break we will—_

"Dinner is on the table," my grandma said distantly. I broke my gaze from the television to look at her. It certainly did not look like she just lost her only daughter. Not a grey hair was out of place and the make-up around her eyes was neat and untouched by tears. I returned to watching the news reporter describe my mother like he knew her personally.

"They're reading your mother's will at six, young lady," she said sharply to recapture my attention, "so I suggest you eat quickly and change into something more appropriate."

I look down and grimace at the t-shirt and sweatpants I had been wearing for a week. Maybe if I stay in them I won't have to go. I won't have to listen to my mother's lawyer confirm I was now under the guardianship of my grandmother and watch her sadistic smile as she became officially in control of my life. Of course, I had lived with her most of my life due to my mother touring the world, but now I no longer had my mother to shield me from the coldness and criticism of Grandma.

"Put this on quickly, Madison." Grandma said as she quickly walked past, her mind preoccupied with something else. I looked at the black dress she had tossed to me. She must have just bought it because I never owned anything black—mother wouldn't let me. Without caring, I slipped out of my shirt and sweatpants and pulled on the black dress. I didn't bother to look in a mirror. I didn't care what I looked like.

"Good _Lord_, girl," my grandma sighed, walking back into the living room, "Your hair is a rat's nest. Put a comb through it and let's go. I don't want to be late."

We were late anyways. Grandma had failed to take into account the persistence of the press. As I followed her path through the flashing lights and deafening shouts I lowered my head unable to stand the thought of being on camera. I could already hear the news caster's voice. _And today we got a shot of Vira Sole's daughter leaving her grandmother's. Looking at her one cannot help but wonder how such a beautiful swan could have produced such an ugly duckling._

Somehow Grandma managed to pull out of the driveway without hitting any of the reporters. As we drove away I was a little disappointed. _Crazy Grandma Driver Flattens Reporter _sounded like a pretty good headline. The car ride to the city was spent in silence, giving me an hour just to think. I unconsciously began to think about Mom. We use to drive up to the city every time she was in town. I tried to remember what she sounded like, the memory already fading. I remembered her soft soulful singing but when I tried to picture my mother talking her lips formed mute words. I became so focused that I did not even remember leaving the car and walking up to the attorney's office.

AbAbAbAbAbAbabA

The lawyer's name was Mr. Sauer. I'm not sure if he took his name too seriously or if he was just a naturally unpleasant person, but Mr. Sauer was certainly not the kind of person one wished to have in control of your future. He was too lean and hungry looking. His eyes were shifty and he wheezed when he talked. When he shook my hand he looked ready to wipe it with a disinfectant but then restrained himself. After taking a seat, I had to watch impatiently as Mr. Sauer shuffled his papers and cleared his throat and took a sip of water. The third time he tried to shuffle his papers I was close to hopping over the desk and kicking him out of his twenty-third story window.

"Mrs. Sole—"He began.

"Solomon actually," Grandma said stiffly, "Sole was my daughter's stage name."

Mr. Sauer gave a tight-lipped smile and then began again. "Mrs. _Solomon,_ your daughter left me in charge of her affairs and instructed me to give you this letter before I proceeded with the reading of her will."

He pulled a small manila envelope out of a file and handed it to my grandmother. I tried to lean over to read it but she carefully angled it away from my view. I watched as her grey eyes read over the letter quickly, and as she read further her mouth began to slowly drop.

"But this is ridiculous!" she cried looking up at the lawyer in disbelief.

"I am afraid it was Ms. Sole's wish," Mr. Sauer said, his facial features never changing. I looked back and forth between the two, desperate for someone to tell me what exactly was in the letter.

"But surely something can be done?" She protested, glaring at the man like he, personally, would be taking me away. "I've been in charge of Madison her entire life and I'll be cold in my grave before I let some stranger have guardianship of her."

My head shot up at this. Stranger? What stranger?

"You are perfectly welcome to contest the guardianship. However, I would highly advise against it. This is not a man you want to take to court."

"But he doesn't even know about her," grandma hissed. "And a man like that has no business raising a child."

"I'm not a child," I said abruptly. The adults paused for a moment. But only a moment.

"Don't be silly, Madison, of course you are still a child," she sniffed before returning to glare at the lawyer. I felt my face turn red with embarrassment and anger. All she did was belittle me! It brought me to the point where I'd rather have some stranger off the street take care of me then her.

"To be honest Mrs. Solomon, the easiest way for you to have legal guardianship of your granddaughter is for him to sign over his guardianship to you. However, this process takes about a month to complete and during that time Madison would have to stay with him."

"And this is the best you can do?" Grandma asked tightly. The lawyer nodded.

"I'm afraid so."

"Very well." My grandmother stood, eyeing the lawyer murderously. "Come along Madison. We have other things to do today."

"One moment please," Mr. Sauer stood, holding another letter in his hand. "This one is meant for Madison."

Shakily, I reached out a hand for the flimsy letter with my breath caught in my throat. I did not open it. I was too zoned out to. For the rest of the meeting, I was a vegetable, seeing but not hearing.

AbAbAbAbAbAbabA

I was like this all the way to my bedroom, with the paper crunched tightly in my fist. Possibilities of its contents flickered through my head until I was dizzy. Slowly, I sat down on the edge of my bed waiting for the room to stop spinning.

The first thing to move was my thumb, glossing over the sharp edges of the letter. Next, my eyes began to blink again and then moisture returned to mouth. Finally, my heart began to beat again. Slowly, I ripped away the envelope to find a letter neatly folded with Maddie scrawled across the top. A tear dropped on my cheek from the realization that there was no one to call me Maddie anymore. With shaky fingers I unfolded the letter to read over my mother's messy handwriting.

_Hi darling,_

_If you're reading this, it must mean something has happened to me. It also means that I have not been given the chance to tell you everything that I wanted you to know. I need you to know that you are the best thing that could have ever happened to me and that I did not know what it meant to truly live until I had you. I know that I have not been the best mother I could be to you and that you deserved the kind of mom who could tuck you in every night and tell you how wonderful you are every morning. The only regret I have is that I left you alone with only your grandmother and I know that it was never easy on you. I do not know the decision I am making now will be any easier for you but it is the best that I am able to do for you, darling. _

_When I was nineteen, I met someone and fell so madly in love with him that I felt like I wouldn't be able to breathe without him. I was young and naïve and just as quickly as he came into my life, he left it. __However__, it was the greatest mistake of my life because out of it__,__ I got you. Recently, I saw him again. I wanted to tell him about the wonderful, amazing daughter that we had but I was selfish and unwilling to share you with him. But as I think more and more about it__,__ I feel that it's not fair to you to keep you away from each other. I don't why I am granting him guardianship, it is sad to think that he is my only other option. But the thought of leaving you alone with my mother was never appealing. I know you think I never noticed your dislike of grandma but I swear I did. That is why I am granting guardianship to your father, Windsor Horne Lockwood III.__Thank God I'm dead because I'm sure when your grandmother finds out she'll want to kill me._

_I hope you will never have to read this letter but if you do, know just how much I love you, and that when you are thinking of me I am thinking of you._

_All my love,_

_Mama_

As I read the words, her voice slowly came back to me and unconsciously I smiled. It was too ironic not to. By losing one parent, I gained another.

Well after months of thinking about it and weeks writing it I finally posted it! Don't worry the characters that you know and love will appear in the next chapter. I hope this will encourage some of you out there to write more fanfics (..) in the Myron Bolitar category.

Special thanks to my beta, Absolutely Fabulous who could not have picked a more appropriate penname.


	2. Chapter 2

"Windsor Horne Lockwood the third. It's kind of a weird name." Ellie said, after I spilled my guts to her. We lay on my bed looking up as dark clouds dropped heavy rain onto my skylight.

"I googled him," I said blankly. Ellie sat up, her blonde hair whipping me.

"And?" She asked, looking at me eagerly.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "He handles finances or something—and he golfs."

"Boooooring." Ellie flopped back onto the bed. "You know I really can't see your mom with a banker. I always pictured your dad as Mick Jagger."

I thought about it for a second, recalling all the boyfriends Mom had brought home. "Yeah I can see how you could get that impression."

"So maybe he is a Mick Jagger look alike—but in a suit!"

"Not even close."I leaned over to my laptop on the side table and typed in his name. Clicking on a social newsletter sight I brought up his picture along with a hefty article. Ellie leaned over the bed to get a better look.

"Holy beans! Now I can see your mother with a banker." I watched as Ellie continued to ogle the picture. I couldn't blame her—I had done the same thing. The picture was taken at some high society charity ball with my father in a tuxedo and a drop-dead gorgeous woman hanging on his arm.

"I know this must be weird," Ellie said chewing her lip, "but your dad is hot."

It _was_ weird but indisputably true. He was tall, had perfectly cut blonde hair and the kind of blue eyes people kill for. His face looked like it was carefully carved from porcelain with its delicate features and sharp angles. Looking at him you realized his name fit him perfectly. Both were pretentious and screamed of money and entitlement. I tried to find some similarities between us, something that let me know for sure that he was my father. All I could find was that we both had blue eyes. But then again so did 40% of the population. For the first time I was a little upset that I looked so much like my mother.

"So when do you get to meet him?"

"Tonight," I said, my heart suddenly thumping louder. "We're meeting him for dinner."

"That was fast."

I nodded.

AbAbAbAbA

But by the time my grandma dressed, combed and criticized me, I began to think the meeting could not have come fast enough. For the occasion she bought me another dress, this one with a floral print and a chokingly high collar. She wanted to braid my hair too but I was gone before she could come a foot near me. Mr. Lockwood was just going to have to accept the fact that his daughter had unruly hair.

Grandma had a town car pick us up at six and by six thirty we were seated in one of the most exclusive restaurants in Manhattan. The whole time Grandma had her nose in the air—which probably would have looked a lot more dignified if there weren't tiny white hairs in her nostril. Despite her calm demeanor I could tell she was a little nervous (she was snapping at me more than usual).

"Madison, stop fidgeting! People will see you," she said horrified. I rolled my eyes and opened up a menu. I couldn't eat all day and now suddenly I was ready to order up an elephant with horse on the side. But of course! Everything was in French.

"What's es-car-got?" I slowly asked.

"It's pronounced _escargot_, dear," she sighed, looking around impatiently.

That wasn't what I asked but before I could enquire about the dish further we were interrupted by the host with the snobby expression and 1920's tailcoat. My Grandma smiled politely up at him but her anxiety was clear. Good. Maybe they would kick us out and I could convince Grandma to stop at a burger joint.

"Mrs. Solomon? Mr. Lockwood sends his regrets. I'm afraid he is caught up in a meeting and will be unable to dine with you. However, he insists that you put the meal on his tab and enjoy your evening." The man looked quite proud of himself for relaying the message so eloquently. I resisted the urge to applaud.

"I see," Grandma said through pursed lips. The man actually gave a short bow and then walked away. I bit my lip nervously as I watched Grandma got through ten different emotions of anger in three point five seconds. In the end she settled on mudslinging—a personal favorite of mine. This is where she drags who ever has offended her through the mud by listing all of their shortcomings from scandalous affairs to getting a c minus in the fourth grade.

Of course I was just as equally angry. Well maybe not angry. Maybe more disappointed. I wanted to meet him. I really did! Who wouldn't want to see the other half of their DNA donor?

"You know I told Veronica to marry him. I told her she couldn't do any better. But then she goes and sleeps with him. Let me tell you something Madison, no one is going to want to buy the ice cream truck when you are handing out popsicles for free. Of course the Lockwoods like to think they are so squeaky clean but if half the rumors are true they should be locking up their son in an asylum somewhere. Really what Veronica was thinking by giving you to that maniac is beyond me. Not only is he unstable but I've heard he goes through women like tissues. I can't imagine leaving you in that kind of environment."

For probably the first time in my life, I was hanging onto Grandma's every word. This kind of stuff was certainly not in any of the social papers.

"You know I heard he worked for the FBI. Now you tell me why a man of his background would do such a thing. It's really too much. It's a sign of a man who just can't grow up if you ask me."

I just nodded, hoping she would keep talking. She didn't. In my excitement I had forgotten that after mudslinging she switches to silent brooding.

"I still don't know what escargot is."

AbAbAbAbA

About a week after the dinner fiasco, Grandma really lost it. _Really_ lost it. Just picture Mount Kilimanjaro exploding while you're eating your Cheerios and it would be like you were sitting in our kitchen.

"I have had it with this man! First he refuses to meet his own daughter and then his lawyers refuse to meet mine! Who the hell does he think he is? You would think that with his billions he wouldn't be so tight about paying child support!"

"You need child support?" I asked, lifting a brow.

"Well of course not! It's the principle of the thing! Obviously he doesn't want you but the least he could do is give a little support," she screeched.

_Obviously he doesn't want you_

The thought bounced around my head like a pinball. He didn't want? The thought had crossed my mind—in fact it had crossed my mind quite a lot, but to actually here it said, to hear that my one chance of freedom from my grandmother was gone. To hear that my own father did not want me. It was too much. It was…

"I'm going for a walk."

Grandma jerked her head up, looking me over with a suspicious glare over horned rim glasses. "A walk? What for?"

"Just getting a little exercise," I lied. I needed to get away. Have some time to myself before I resigned myself to the fact that I would be stuck with her until the day that she died—and knowing her she'd live to be a hundred and twenty just to spite me.

"I don't want you going out. The paparazzi can be dangerous."

"Grandma, Charlie Sheen is coming into town. I think the paparazzi will be a little more interested in a psycho, then the daughter of a singer who died two weeks ago."

"Who's Charlie Sheen?"

"Never mind. Can I go now?" I had begun to inch the door.

"Be home by six…and don't get dirty. And don't talk to strangers. And—'

If I had stayed, I would have never been able to leave. Her lists are notoriously long. About a block away from our townhouse I hailed a cab.

"Where to honey?"

AbAbAbAbA

The split decision to meet my father, head on, in his office was probably not the best idea I have ever acted upon. Standing there in a t-shirt and jeans surrounded by female models dressed in Prada, I was tempted to turn around and run. In fact, I did turn around only to be stopped by a rather tall man.

"Excuse me," I managed to squeak, my muscles tensed to scamper right out of the building.

"Whoops sorry kiddo," the man smiled down, he sidestepped me and began to walk to the elevator but stopped just short of the door. Slowly, he turned back to me, who remained frozen to the marble floor. "I apologize I didn't realize who you were Miss. Hart."

_Come again?_

"Esperanza told me you were interested in being represented by MBReps."

He must have noticed my dazed and confused expression because he continued on, "I'm Myron Bolitar. I would represent you."

I think I nodded; I can't be sure because at that point I really couldn't feel anything. All I knew was that walking beside Mr. Bolitar allowed me to scoot past the guard and the snobby receptionists without a second glance.

It was a quiet and incredibly awkward elevator ride. I didn't know what to say to the man who thought I was somebody else and he kept glancing at me curiously and then switching his gaze when I noticed his stare. We played this little game for what felt like hours but the game came to a stop at the _ding_ of the elevator door. This must have been his floor because he immediately stepped out and waited patiently for me to follow. As we walked he discussed his business plan for _my_ career and the possible sponsors he could get. I nodded and smiled when it seemed appropriate but I could see suspicion start to seep into his eyes. When we entered his office he closed the door and I sat down. He leaned against the desk and folded his arms.

"Now who are you really?"

"What?" I managed to croak out, my heart pumping a mile a minute.

"I just asked if ?"

That was it. I was cornered. No place to run. The window would be too high to jump out of but maybe that was for the best—maybe the fall would kill me and I would not have to face the inevitable wrath of my grandmother.

"Listen, I'm sorry," I sputtered. "I didn't know how else to get past security and, well, you were right there—and it was stupid and I'm sorry."

Mr. Bolitar scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully as his eyebrows knitted in confusion. "Well then if you are not my star tennis player then who exactly might you be?"

"Maddie Solomon."

"Alright Maddie and what urgent business did you have in the Locke-Horne building? Checking up on your stocks?"

"Uh-no I'm here to meet someone."

"Listen I know I am irresistible to women of all ages but why not just wait for them in the lobby?"

"Well he doesn't exactly know I am here," I explain, deciding to ignore the creepy comment.

"Hmm I must have missed Surprise Daddy at Work Day on my calendar," he said.

"Yeah," I laughed nervously. And I was about to high tail it out of there when the office door opened with a bang.

"Why are female accountants so clingy?" A man moaned. I turned around instantly, my eyes widening as I took in the man standing in front of me. He looked just like the pictures I had been poring over for the past weeks. Yet in person Windsor Horne Lockwood III had a more dangerous aura around him. Somehow the camera had failed to capture the menace in his eyes and the coil of his muscles, like a viper ready to strike. With a shiver I looked to the floor as his icy gaze quickly examined me.

"Where is Sasha Hart?" He asked his full attention now on Mr. Bolitar.

"That is an excellent question. I grabbed Maddie here by mistake." Mr. Bolitar said turning back to me. Maybe if I knew him better and was about a foot closer I would have kicked him. As it were I just tried to make myself look as small as possible. I did not even try to make eye contact with him when his attention returned to me. Suddenly my sneakers were incredibly interesting.

I tried to convince myself that he didn't know who I was. There had to be thousands of Maddies in Manhattan alone. For all he knew I was just a kid looking for my white collar dad who worked ten floors below his top floor office.

"What is _she_ doing here?" He said finally. Apparently he was not the clueless, self-absorbed playboy portrayed in all the magazines. It seemed in a matter of second he managed to connect me to the daughter he has been avoiding.

"You know her?" Mr. Bolitar said, surprised.

"This was the problem I was telling you about a few weeks ago," he said.

Mr. Bolitar looked at me for a moment and then at my father. His gaze then returned to mine and in an instant his face had contorted into a fit of laughter. I jumped at the unexpected sound, my nerves already shot. My father just looked at the man as if he suggested they jump out the window together.

"I fail to see the humor," my father said dryly, crossing his arms.

"It's funny because I've been waiting for this moment for years. The day your philandering finally catches up with you."

"By all means take a picture," he said, his voice strangely dead.

"Don't think I won't," Mr. Bolitar smirked, leaning contently back in his executive chair.

In those few moments my voice seemed to return, albeit weaker then usual.

"Ahem," I coughed, forcing my words past my lips. "Do you think it's possible we could start over?"

"Meaning?" He arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow, making me suddenly conscious that I had not plucked mine in weeks. My courage was starting to back away again but I nudged it forward.

I stuck out my hand. "Hi I'm Madison Solomon. Your daughter."

He looked at my hand for a moment then slowly back up again, an exasperated look whittled on his porcelain face. Somehow this scene played out differently in my head-less cold.

AbAbAbAbA

We sat across from each other in a dark lounge. I tried to look casual while soaking in my surroundings and the man in front of me but the unimpressed look of the waiter told me I was failing.

"And what can I get you Mr. Lockwood," the waiter asked a lived to please smile plastered on his face.

"Two scotches," he said without looking up.

"But I don't drink," I protested without thinking. He and the waiter starred back at me like I grew another head. My father looked at me with a grimace then turned to the waiter. "Two scotches and a coke."

His icy gaze turned on me and despite my best efforts I squirmed a little, feeling more like I was in an interrogation room then in a lounge.

"And exactly how old are you, Madison," he asked finally, when the waiter had brought the drinks.

"Fifteen," I said guardedly, but he only nodded and took a deep gulp of scotch, so I pressed on. "Which makes sense seeing as you left my mom fifteen years ago."

If I had hit a nerve, he certainly didn't show it, but I now understood that second scotch was never intended for me. He gulped it down like water.

After setting the empty glass down, he stared at me for a long moment before asking, "And what pray tell struck you with the notion to come to my office?"

"Well how else was I going to meet you," I said, exasperated by the obvious answer.

"Surely your mother has met someone to cover the father figure role," he replied. "This is what this whole escapade is about, isn't it?"

I scrunched my nose, disgusted by the very thought of my mother's boyfriend, Miller Haunt, coming anywhere close to the title of father figure. An immature bad boy with sociel skill issues and an apparent fear of bathing had no business even throwing around the idea of being a dad. Although, to be fair, neither did Mr. Lockwood.

"Listen," I bit back, my pride smarting from his condescension. "Whether you like it or not my mother placed me under your guardianship."

"And what if I don't want you under my guardianship," he snapped.

I must have looked like an idiot with my mouth gaping open, I certainly felt like one. My father leaned farther back in his chair, something like regret lowering the corners of his mouth.

He cleared his throat. "I apologize, but believe me when I say this is really for your own good. I certainly have no business raising a child."

"I'm not a child," I said, immediately regretting the words that made me sound all the more childish. "I mean I don't need you to raise me. I just need you to take me away from my grandmother."

"I can think of a lot worse than living with Lucille," he said skeptically.

"I can't," I shot back sullenly. "If I have to live with her one more week, I'll runaway."

"And go where exactly."

"Anywhere and everywhere. Anything to escape."

"Does she beat you?" He asked, a note of concern peeking through.

"Only with her tongue," I said, suddenly embarrassed. Was I whining? Did he think I was complaining just so I could get my way? It seemed impossible to get across the misery of being around her.

He leaned farther back in his chair, steepling his fingers, giving him a pensive look.

"I will discuss with your grandmother."

AbAbAbAbA

I would just like to apologize for the long wait. Life has gotten pretty hectic and the urge to write left me for a couple months. As a way of apology I made this chapter the longest chapter I have ever written in my entire life. I hope you can appreciate the mental willpower it took for me to write this much : )

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